


Pssst, Alex Manes is in love with a giant goofball, pass it on

by mythras_fire



Series: Friday Night Chats Plot-Bunny Factory [21]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Aliens do not make good nursemaids, Bedtime Karaoke, Fluff and Crack, Just Ask Alex, M/M, POV Alex Manes, POV Kyle Valenti, Snow Day, Warm Squishy Feels Everywhere, Wild Pony (Roswell), cabin fever, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythras_fire/pseuds/mythras_fire
Summary: Alex is sure he’ll find it cute later when he’s completely over this cold. Keyword there being “later” because right now he’s being held captive in his own fucking bedroom because SOMEONE decided to hide all of his clothes after Alex made a break for it earlier today.Bastard.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Friday Night Chats Plot-Bunny Factory [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1292960
Comments: 37
Kudos: 100





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵) Because I just wanted to see Alex and Michael play around in the snow some more, okay? They’re just so lovely when they’re being care-free and although the snow doesn’t factor in a whole lot in the foreground of the fic, it’s still out there, calling to Alex <333 and no matter where Guerin’s hidden his clothes, he’ll get back out there, dammit, even if he has to flash the back forty of his property to do it! 
> 
> （＾∇＾）... (°▽°) ... (・∀・)
> 
> Keep Calm and Read On.

Alex has a fever. Of the cabin variety.

He just wants to go outside and play in the snow dammit!

Dark puffy clouds rolled in two days ago and Alex had barely finished pulling on all of his snow gear - bolstered by Michael’s promise that he wouldn’t let him fall - before he was racing Trixie out the back door to frolic in the fluffy frozen precipitation falling down out of the sky. 

Like a giant watering can that turns water into _snowflakes that stay on your nose and eyelashes…_

Alex had been in the middle of spinning himself around with arms flung wide doing his best impression of Julie Andrews singing _My Favorite Things_ when

**THWACK!**

he got a snowball right in the kisser. 

After spitting melted snow onto the ground and doing a passable job wiping it out of his eyes with his mittens, Alex turned a calculating glare at the smirking alien leaning oh-so-casually against the porch beam, arms crossed over his chest.

Alex had told him calmly, “Of course you know, this means war,” Michael had snarked, “bring it on, Mary Poppins!,” and things kind of, well, snowballed after that.

~*~

Alex also has a fever of the temperature variety. Well, technically speaking, he had a fever yesterday. Today he feels FINE, ok? His temp has only spiked once and he doesn’t feel like he’s going to cough up any more lungs. Stupid cold. Why should being out in the snow all day make it easier to catch a cold?? It’s ridiculous is what it is.

You know what else is ridiculous?

An alien who has never been sick a day in his extraterrestrial life freaking the fuck out at the first sound of his human sniffling.

Gah. How is this his life?

By the time Alex had declared that first evening that he was going to bed— even though it was barely past seven o’clock— because he felt like shit, Michael was on the phone to Valenti, a wild panicked look in his eyes, gravity-defying curls creating a halo around his head as he ran his hands through them like he had a nervous tick.

Alex could hear Kyle trying vainly to reassure Michael, after listening to the symptoms reported, that all Alex needed was lots of rest and plenty of fluids. Chicken noodle soup was good if they had any at the cabin, any warm liquidy food if they didn’t. 

Valenti finally calmed Michael down enough to hang up the phone but he must have received thirty texts from Michael in the next ten minutes as he kept asking him for reassurance that he was doing things right.

Alex is sure he’ll find it cute later when he’s completely over this cold. Keyword there being “later” because right now he’s being held captive in his own fucking bedroom because SOMEONE decided to hide all of his clothes after Alex made a break for it earlier today.

Bastard.

Michael would never deny Alex his mobility inside the cabin, so his crutches and prosthesis are in their designated spots next to Alex’s side of the bed. 

The same cannot be said for his mobility outside, apparently. All he’d wanted to do was get some fresh air after being cooped up in bed all day yesterday (although he will totally admit that all the snuggling and spooning was really nice and Michael’s just so _warm_ ). So he may have gotten dressed while Michael was taking a break from his nervous mother hen-ing to shower and snuck out the back door to take a walk around the backyard in the anemic winter sunlight.

A few minutes later, Alex had heard a strange shrieking noise and turned around, worried that the dog might have gotten stuck in or under something on the back porch. 

But no, it was just his overprotective boyfriend standing there in no shirt, loose-fitting red flannel pajama pants, and dripping wet curls having some kind of respiratory fit from the looks of it.

~*~

So here Alex is, marooned in his underwear at his own cabin, with no hope of going back out into the snow until he either gets better or finds out where his clothes have been stashed. 

*sigh* At least he has a lovely view. 

Alex settles his arms behind his head, makes himself comfortable on the bed, and snarks, “If you’re not going to tell me where my clothes are, the least you could do is entertain me, cowboy.”

Michael is currently standing on either side of Alex’s leg-and-a-half on top of the covers. Why, you ask? Alex has no idea, but like he said, he’s not complaining. About the view anyway. And the heat emanating from his boyfriend is slowly filling the room with radiant warmth; Alex never has to worry about being cold anymore, which is awesome. 

“Why, I’d be delighted, private.” He looks down at Alex with a twinkle in his eye that portends alien mischief and tips his imaginary black hat; the real one is off, uh, somewhere. A moment later, Alex’s hairbrush floats in from the bathroom and Michael holds it up to his face as he strikes a pose like he’s Elvis or some shit.

Elvis may have left the building, but he has definitely _not_ come back in the form of one Michael Guerin, the world’s most endearing if sadly tone-deaf alien crooner ever to serenade one Alex Manes, who tries valiantly to keep a straight face for more than thirty seconds. 

He fails, of course, but the love in his eyes and the laughter skittering out of his mouth and nose are enough recompense. Not that Michael even notices.

> Hide in the kitchen, hide in the hall  
>  Ain't going to do you no good at all  
>  Because once I catch you and the kissing starts  
>  A team of wild horses couldn't tear us apart

The goober’s too busy perfecting his Elvis leer while he sings _Stuck on You._

Alex slaps at his leg to get him to stop gyrating his hips because contrary to popular belief, it’s actually funnier than it is sexy if you’re already in the throes of a giggle fit. And Alex likes being able to breathe.

Michael abruptly changes tack and starts singing a song from an entirely different genre of music.

Or. Wait.

> I’m the pious guy the little Amlettes wanna be like  
>  On my knees day and night scoring points for the afterlife  
>  So don’t be vain  
>  And don’t be whiny  
>  Or else my brother I might have to get medieval on your heinie

Alex has to clasp both hands across his mouth as he tries to contain his boisterous laughter.

Ok then, not singing. Rapping.

Michael knows the entire _Amish Paradise_ song by “Weird Al” Yankovic by heart— which is, okay, that’s impressive— complete with over-exaggerated hand movements that Alex is sure Michael thinks are “gansta”.

(Pssst, Alex Manes is in love with a giant goofball, pass it on.)

Alex smacks his other leg this time and finds out that Michael is fashioning himself a radio of sorts because he changes “stations” once more.

> What would I give to live by your side?  
>  What would I pay to be here beside you?  
>  What would I do to see you smiling at me?  
>  Where would we walk?  
>  Where would we run?  
>  If we could stay all day in the sun?  
>  Just you and me  
>  And I could be  
>  Part of your world

Michael flutters his eyelashes down at Alex as he holds the hairbrush in front of his face, trying out his falsetto voice to sound like Ariel. Sebastian would be crying right about now.

Alex is still smiling but he isn’t laughing anymore because the code breaker part of his brain has been quietly parsing the songs that Michael’s been selecting to sing to him. A pattern is definitely taking shape but he wants to collect a little more data for… reasons.

He leans up momentarily to smack Michael’s chest this time, right over his heart. There’s a loud SLAP as skin meets skin and Michael feigns recoiling from the impact, grabbing Alex’s hand before he can retract it to “steady” himself. 

Alex snickers. What a ham. 

Michael kisses the back of his captive hand once, twice, and releases it to start humming in a soft voice the opening bars of the next song.

Alex’s eyes widen as the first stanza leaves Michael’s lips and he makes grabby hands for him to pull him to his foot on the bed. The hairbrush floats back into the bathroom.

> When I look into your eyes  
>  It's like watching the night sky  
>  Or a beautiful sunrise  
>  There’s so much they hold

“Dance with me?” He whispers as Michael supports his right leg with a caress of his telekinesis, arms wrapped securely around his waist. Alex loves being wrapped up in his power, it settles him. He rests his arms around the back of Michael’s neck so he can twine his fingers in the curls at the base of his neck as they slowly start to turn in place on top of the bed. 

> And just like them old stars  
>  I see that you've come so far  
>  To be right where you are  
>  How old is your soul?

Alex smiles at the lyrics and rests his forehead against that of the even older soul in his arms. _I Won’t Give Up_ made him cry the first time he heard it, during his initial deployment. It is very much a chronicle of their path to and away from each other and the promise they made after the events of last year. Alex joins in, singing softly.

> I won't give up on us  
>  Even if the skies get rough  
>  I'm giving you all my love  
>  I'm still looking up
> 
> And when you're needing your space  
>  To do some navigating  
>  I'll be here patiently waiting  
>  To see what you find
> 
> Cuz even the stars they burn  
>  Some even fall to the earth  
>  We got a lot to learn  
>  God knows we're worth it  
>  No I won't give up

“I don’t know why you continue to put up with my caterwauling when we could be listening to your beautiful voice instead,” Michael casually opines, fully aware of the disparity in their voices.

Alex lifts his head to smile at his love in the soft light from the night stand lamps. In lieu of a spoken answer, he sings the next verse solo, addressing Michael directly through Jason Mraz’s always-poignant lyrics.

> I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily  
>  I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make  
>  Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use  
>  the tools and gifts we've got yeah we got a lot at stake

Michael is a pleasant shade of pink now. He blushes anytime Alex sings to him like this, sharing one breath, one body, souls bared to each other. Alex finds it easier to express certain emotions through song rather than speech, so he’s written Michael lots of songs over the years. Eventually, he’ll play them all for him on the guitar. For now, he can’t help but lean forward to kiss those warm cheeks, first one then the other, before leaning back to sing the last verse.

> And in the end, you're still my friend at least we did intend  
>  For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn  
>  We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in  
>  I had to learn what I got, and what I'm not and who I am

“You’re mine.”

Alex’s answering grin turns into a yawn, which prompts Michael to pull the comforter and sheets down with his sexy mind before levering Alex down into a supine position. He goes to let Trixie out one last time before she curls up in her doggy bed in the den.

Alex welcomes the curly-haired karaoke wonder back into his bed with open arms and rolls on top of his prey. “So where’s my clothes, Guerin?” He’s going for intimidating but a sneeze catches him by surprise.

Michael’s out of the bed like a shot, but he’s not yelling at Alex for having just sneezed all over his chest, which, eww. He’ll apologize for that righ— wait, where’d he go?

When Alex hears the nervous timbre to the words, “Okay, Valenti, how bad is it if he’s sneezing now in addition to the fever and the cough?” drifting down the hall from the great room, he pulls the pillow over his head and groans the groan of the highly put-upon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Bella_Monoxide, who wanted to see the “Aliens can’t handle humans with colds” freak-out from Kyle’s POV.
> 
> And a shoutout to AndreaLyn with a reference to her adorable fic, Get You Hot Like That, https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107903 towards the beginning of the fic <3.
> 
> Strap on your disbelief suspenders! I’m a teetotaler, and I know diddly squat about medical symptoms and was uninterested in researching either one because I didn’t want the truth ruining my plot devices lol so yeah. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it 😎.

A few weeks later, Kyle and Alex are hanging out at the Wild Pony on a Friday night and for some stupid reason Alex is wiping the floor with him at poker. And Kyle is good at poker! Really good!

“What the fuck, Manes?!” he complains as Alex collects the poker chips and the last few shards of Kyle’s pride and adds them to his burgeoning pile of winnings.

“Not just another pretty face, Valenti,” Alex crows as he shuffles the deck for Kyle to deal the next hand. He clears his throat before continuing. “How else do you think I won favors and found fellow friends of Dorothy in the Air Force?” 

Six. Kyle’s been counting and that’s the sixth time in the last fifteen minutes or so that Alex has cleared his throat. But the King of Stubborn is currently ignoring the state of his tonsils for some reason.

“Frog in your throat?”

“Nah, just scratchy.”

“Your portable space heater drying you out or something?”

“What? No, he’s—uh, I mean, it’s not that, that’s uh fine,” Alex hedges and asks for three cards. 

Kyle rolls his eyes as he deals them out and takes two for himself. Damn. Junk cards again. He’s just having a bad night. Yeah, that’s it. As for Alex going all twitchy about his “scratchy” throat? Kyle looks up in time to see the likely culprit saunter over to their table belt buckle first as per usual.

“What’s fine? Besides you, of course,” Michael slides down into the chair next to Alex, who turns to give him a long kiss hello.

“I'm helping Kyle clean out his wallet. It was getting too bulky, see, all those ones he saves up for special visits to the st—”

“Guerin, you look beat,” Kyle steamrolls over whatever incriminating and patently untrue thing Alex was about to say next. Glaring at his best friend, he passes Alex’s beer over to the mechanic. “Here, have a cold one on me, Alex hasn’t touched it.”

Because alcohol is kind of the antithesis of a soothing liquid for a sore throat. Not that Alex would ever admit that was the reason, of course. 

“Hey, Valenti. Yeah, long day at the Yard,” Michael smiles after he takes a swig, “Thanks, man.” 

Kyle patiently waits for his friend’s genius, albeit obviously tired, brain to latch on to that last little nugget of information.

5...4...3...2...1…

“Wait, why haven’t you touched your beer?” 

Kyle can see the concern in Guerin’s eyes already. This is going to be too easy. 

“You in?” Alex nods down at the cards he’s about to deal now that Kyle’s shuffled them.

Kyle can practically see how carefully Alex is trying to breath in and out smoothly so that his breath doesn’t catch in his throat, causing him to need to clear it.

Apparently, that was the wrong answer because now Guerin is fully facing Alex in his seat, beer forgotten. 

“No. What’s wrong, Alex?” Guerin reaches out to prevent Alex from dealing the next hand.

Kyle knows Alex can only hold it in for so long before the tickle in his throat becomes too much. He clears his throat as nonchalantly as possible before muttering to the table, “Nothing. Get off, I’m dealing you in.”

Poor Alex. He would have been safe if not for the fact that it does indeed sound like an aquatic animal has lodged itself in Alex’s larynx and is croaking hello every few minutes. 

Guerin takes one look at Valenti before he’s out of his chair and heading towards the bar.

Alex immediately turns to growl at Kyle, “Why you gotta throw me under the bus like that, man?” before clearing his throat a little more forcefully this time, maybe hoping to buy himself some time before the next urge to do so kicks in.

Kyle schools his face into his patented, angelic ‘who me?’ expression that gets him off the hook with some of the female _and_ male nurses at the hospital. “Dude, just let your man take care of you for once,” he chides gently.

“Yeah, Private, let your man take care of you,” Guerin parrots as he returns to their table with a tall glass of water which he thunks carelessly in front of Alex. A few drops of water splash on the cards Alex has just laid out face down for Michael before their next hand. 

Alex’s face is a riot of emotions battling it out for the lion’s share of how to react to the situation. Kyle knows he’s not used to being cared for, let alone molly-coddled, by anyone else and as his recently reinstated best friend, Kyle feels it’s his duty to help Alex make up for lost time… okay, okay! And the sight of Guerin treating Alex like he’s the Steve to his Bucky is just too fucking cute, alright? Kyle’s a romantic at heart, you know.

Alex looks up at Guerin and the winning emotion shines through: his eyes crinkle as he smiles softly at his boyfriend and leans over to press a quick kiss to his cheek, a low “thank you, Cowboy,” forcing its way out before he takes a long sip of his water. 

Kyle smiles at the two lovebirds and then down at his cards, determined to win back some of the cash he’s left on the table tonight. Ten minutes and three hands later, the smile has long since fallen off of Kyle’s face because now he’s about to lose his shirt to Guerin, too, who is all smiles as he counts his chips. Smug bastard.

The calming effect the water had on Alex’s throat wore off soon after he drained the glass dry, and he’s been trying to clear his throat discreetly since then. Now, don’t misunderstand, Kyle is not one to get his kicks from Schadenfreude, he is a doctor after all, but he’s also just a guy. A guy who is tired of being practice for these two card sharps and is now going to get a little payback and encourage his best friend to give himself permission to be taken care of by his doting boyfriend. We should all be so lucky.

“You taking anything for that scratchy throat?” Kyle asks nonchalantly as he folds, again, trying not to look as butthurt about it as he feels.

“No,” Alex grumbles as he calls Guerin’s bluff and lays out his winning hand face-up. “I told you it’s nothing.”

Kyle’s been keeping an eye on Guerin while they play. He’s seen him twitch several times when Alex clears his throat and it sounds like it hurts.

“Well, that’s a relief cuz there’s been a wicked case of strep going around and I would hate for you to get it.” Kyle replies casually as he reaches across the table to collect the newly shuffled cards from Guerin.

The alien pulls them out of his grasp at those last words. “How bad is wicked?”

“Oh, well, you know, most people are fine taking antibiotics, but some people are more susceptible to viral infections so they have to be more careful or they’ll end up in the hospital.”

“Hospital?” Now it sounds like there is a frog in Michael’s throat. Kyle knows how much care the aliens take to avoid the hospital at all costs. Guerin keeps flicking worried glances over at a brooding Alex who has stolen the deck from his boyfriend and is ignoring them to build a house of cards around his poker chips. 

“Mmhmm.”

“How do— is there something— I mean, like, what are the uh—”

“What should Alex do if he _were_ to have a sore throat that could lead to something else if he didn’t attend to it?” Kyle supplies oh-so-helpfully. He gets a death glare from behind the, frankly impressive, house of cards which looks more like a castle now.

“Ye-yeah that.” Guerin looks like he’s about ready to bolt with Alex thrown over his shoulder as if he could outrun this whole illness deal altogether if only he were fast enough, poor guy.

Kyle leans forward conspiratorially, careful not to touch the table and jostle Alex’s card castle, which looks to be getting its own moat now, cool.

“He’ll want to keep his throat well-lubricated,” Kyle starts to count on his fingers. He hears a rude noise from the peanut gallery. Kyle expects Guerin to smirk at that statement, too, to say something salty, but he is all business, gaze locked on Kyle’s face as he waits to hear what’s next, so he continues, “Uh, ice cream is good for that.”

“Ice cream, got it, anything else?”

Kyle is a little surprised but hides it well enough. “Yeah, um, gargling with salt water or sipping warm honey water is helpful, too. Plus those other tips, y’know, the ones I gave you when he had that fever? Keep his immune system happy and he should be fine for now.”

“Right. Salt, honey, happy immune system, thanks, Doc.” Guerin turns as he stands up and holds out his hand to Alex. “Keys.”

“Didn’t drive,” Alex sounds like he’s sulking as he builds a drawbridge over the moat.

“You’re a miserable liar, too. Keys.”

Too?

Instead of arguing with him like Kyle expects him to do, Alex just scowls at the table as he digs into his front pocket and hands over the car key, not looking Guerin in the eye.

The alien brushes a kiss to the top of Alex’s head and then he’s racing out the door.

“Oh. My. God. Valenti, you _broke_ him!” Alex hisses as he slams his hand palm-down on the table, the earthquake turning his beautiful 3-D cardscape into a churning blue and white lake of red and black fish surrounding the island of his poker chips. Aww man, Kyle was gonna take a picture of it to show Cam. 

Kyle looks over at the door to the bar, slowly swinging shut, a little baffled himself by Guerin’s reaction, but still… “Uh, sorry not sorry? He needs to learn about the vagaries of human frailty somehow, and sooner is probably better than later.”

Alex just huffs at him, still sulking.

“Hey, where’d you learn to build a house of cards so deftly?”

“Not a whole lot else to do with your time when you’re down half a leg, abandoned in the VA with no one to talk to,” Alex mumbles as he deftly reorganizes the cards, too. Kyle figures those two skills go hand in hand. 

“What do you mean no one?” Kyle retorts. “Surely your friends came to see you before you got shipped stateside.”

“I didn’t have any friends over there… and don’t call me Shirley,” Alex tacks on with a small smile and a glance up at Kyle through his long lashes.

Kyle smiles at the reference to that old _Airplane_ comedic shtick but he won’t be distracted that easily. “Come on, really? You had to have someone.”

Alex sighs and flexes his fingers then begins repeatedly shuffling the cards just to have something to do with his hands. Kyle can relate.

“Well, Forest came by to see me when he could. Usually after visiting hours so the nurses wouldn’t report back to Sarge about the young Airman who kept going in to visit his son in the recovery wing.” 

The cards are being bent and shuffled to within an inch of their lives but Kyle just lets Alex vent his frustrations on them. He has more cards at home.

“Well, that’s good. I knew someone would have your back. Were you two… close?”

Alex clears his throat again but this time it feels like the awkward conversational kind, eyes guarded as they flick back and forth from Kyle to the cards in his hands. “...We’ve kept in touch.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Ice cream’s a-meltin’, Private, come on, let’s go home!” Guerin’s booming voice cuts him off from the door.

Some poor guy on the other side of the bar who must actually be a private in the Army starts getting up, a confused but interested look on his face. 

“No, not you, sorry! I was talking to him.” Kyle sees him pointing at Alex and the other guy sits back down rather dejectedly. Yeah, Alex is just that far out of most guys’ leagues.

Kyle turns back to address Alex as he rises from his seat to pull on his studded black motorcycle jacket. “It’s not a sign of weakness, y’know, to let someone take care of you,” Kyle nods his head in Guerin's direction. “Especially when they love you as much as that goober does.”

Alex chuckles at the nickname and hands the mangled deck of cards back to Kyle, a chagrined look on his handsome face. “Thanks, Kyle,” he says quietly. “I’ll buy you a new deck next week.”

“No worries, man, I’ve got plenty more at home. And next week your ass is mine, Manes.”

“Oooh, lookin’ to start a little threesome action, there, Valenti?” Maria teases as she walks over to clear their glasses. “I’m sure Cam will be excited. Two boys to play with instead of just one.”

“What? No, that’s not what I—”

“If that’s the case, I’ll send Guerin in my stead and he’ll give you the ride of your life, Kyle. He takes direction really well, and I know Cam likes a good boy,” he winks at Kyle, who immediately flushes red.

“Wait, how do you kn—”

“Oooh, can I watch? That sounds perfect!” She looks way too excited about this prospect.

“You guys aren’t seriously—I was talking about—”

“For sure,” Alex nods encouragingly. “Guerin’s always wanted an audience, I’ll text you the time and place.” They hug and kiss each other on the cheek and then they both go their separate ways, wishing each other a good night like Kyle isn’t sitting _right there,_ mouth agape.

He sees Alex approach Michael at the Pony’s front door where he’s been chatting with that Army guy and whispers something horribly filthy in his ear no doubt, because Guerin looks up in surprise and then fucking leers at Kyle from across the bar while doing that head nod thing as he dons his cowboy hat before pulling a smirking Airman out the door. 

Kyle has a sneaking suspicion that he’s just been set up. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he unlocks it to see a text from Cam that involves way too many evil smiley face and eggplant emojis for his liking. 

“Fuck me,” Kyle mutters under his breath.

“If you play your cards right!” Maria cackles as she walks back to the bar. 

Ugh. Women and their superhuman sense of hearing.

**Author's Note:**

> No songs were harmed in the writing of this story; they also belong to their respective creators. And yes, the author will use any means necessary to share profoundly eclectic musical gems with you lovely folks. You're welcome.


End file.
